


christmas

by orphan_account



Series: season 11 coda [2]
Category: Supernatural
Genre: 11x09, 11x09 coda, Alcohol, Angst, Christmas, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Hurt Dean Winchester, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Post-Episode: s11e09 O Brother Where Art Thou, Pre-Relationship, Turkey - Freeform, Unhealthy Coping Mechanisms, spnwritingchallenge
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-12-21
Updated: 2015-12-21
Packaged: 2018-05-08 05:32:27
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,085
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5485448
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Christmas is approaching rapidly and Sam is gone. </p>
<p>"Dean, what are you doing?"<br/>"Cooking."<br/>"It's 2 AM and you're intoxicated."</p>
            </blockquote>





	christmas

“Dean, what are you doing?” Cas' deep voice reaches Dean's ears slowly and with effort. It feels as if he's drifting in an ocean, his hearing muffled by the water. He lifts his eyes slowly and is met with a worried and cautious look. Cas is standing, leaning on the door frame of the kitchen's entrance with a frown on his face.

“M' cooking,” Dean answers after a while, letting his head hit the cupboard he's sitting against with a quiet thud. He clutches the bottle in his hands tighter to his chest. “Making Christmas turkey,” he snorts, suddenly finding the idea funny.

“It's 2 AM and you're intoxicated,” Cas' voice is soft, like he's talking to a scared animal and not a grown ass man. Dean hates it.

“Yeah, well, that's probably why it burned,” he shrugs, taking another swing from his almost empty bottle and doesn't even feel the burn in his throat anymore. Huh, looks like he's back to his previous alcohol tolerance. Good. He's been drinking too little lately.

Castiel hesitates for a moment and then steps further into the kitchen. He turns the oven off and opens it, letting out smoke and the stench of burning meat. Dean takes another desperate gulp to stop himself from gagging at the smell. He doesn't look up when Cas stands before him and doesn't say a word.

Finally, Cas sighs and slips down the cupboard to sit beside Dean. He stretches his hand expectantly, motioning for the bottle of whiskey. Dean passes it to him reluctantly and the angel takes a long swing of the alcohol, without flinching. Damn mojo takes all the fun away.

They sit in silence for an undetermined amount of time. It may be seconds, minutes or hours; Dean has no idea and frankly, he doesn't care. He feels Cas' shoulder touching his, their bend knees leaning against each other. He hears the other man's breathing – deep and calm right next to him. It's almost peaceful. If it weren't for the buzz in his head and his wavering vision he'd feel almost content. Almost.

His breath hitches suddenly but he doesn't even have the strength or sobriety to be properly embarrassed. He feels Cas tense up next to him and then a hand lied softly on his back. He tries to control his breathing but fails miserably and eventually lets the bottle slip from his fingers and hides his face in his hands. Cas' arm sneaks around him and embraces him gently. If he were in his right mind he would feel uncomfortable at such an intimate gesture but he's not in his right anything right now so he just lets himself be held. It feels like he'd fall apart without the other man's arm holding him.

“We will get him out, Dean. I will do anything to get him back,” he hears Cas' serious voice, croaking slightly with emotion. The arm around his back tightens. “We'll get him back, I swear.”

“But what if we- What if- I don't-” he's unable to say anything coherent right now. “It was supposed to be our first Christmas together,” he manages finally, after a long while. “I bought this fucking turkey, I-” he croaks, his voice giving up. He can't stop the sob, wrenching itself from his chest. “God, Cas, I can't- He's in the cage, Cas. He's-”

“I know. I know, Dean. But we'll get him back. He's strong, he can-”  
“But I don't want him to have to be strong!” Dean blurts out, hunching in on himself even further. “I don't want him to have to fight anymore! Why can't we ever catch a break?! It's fucking Christmas, our first real Christmas in the bunker without anyone possessed or the Mark or anything. It was supposed to be- It was-” his voice gives up again and he sobs, all the fight leaving him at once. He sags against the other man, shaking. He feels like such a girl, throwing a fit about ruined Christmas. He never cared about those before but this year it was supposed to be good. The three of them in the bunker; safe and together, and themselves. But now Sammy...

“I know, Dean,” Cas sounds choked up, but still holds Dean firmly against his chest, stroking Dean's arm reassuringly. Like this can help anything. (It does actually, but only a tiny, tiny bit.)  
“And I'm sorry, I'm so sorry.”

'I don't want you to be sorry! I want you to save him! I want you to save my little brother form the pit!' he wants to scream in the angel's face. He wants to push him away, hit him, make him hurt as much as he does. It's just an echo of the time he had the Mark, and he knows that. So he squashes the urge and burrows himself deeper into Cas' embrace instead. And again, he can't find it in himself to be embarrassed.

They sit on the kitchen's floor for a long, long time with the empty bottle of whiskey at their feet and the awful smell of burned turkey attacking their nostrils. They probably look like a depressed couple from a cheap TV drama. Not that either of them cares.

Finally, Dean feels his breathing calm; all the rage and despair leaving his body in slow waves. All that's left is exhaustion. And a tiny, tiny bit of comfort and warmth borrowed from another body. He straightens up and looks up at Cas slowly. He's met with a pair of blue eyes, slightly blurry and watered but filled with so much warmth and something that can only be described as love, pure and unadulterated. He wishes he could kiss him right now. He wishes he could just get lost in physical pleasure and forget the world. He leans in a bit closer...

And stops, mere inches from Cas' lips. He can't do it. Not like this. Not just as a distraction. They've been waiting for too long to do it like this. 

So he burrows his face in Cas' neck instead. He's too drunk, too exhausted and way too messed up to make a decision he should have made years ago. It would be a disrespect towards Cas. Towards their bond.

“I've got you, Dean. It's okay,” he hears from the other man and maybe even feels the gentlest kiss against his head. “You have me.”

And so Dean closes his eyes again and let's himself believe it. Just this once.


End file.
